M'Lady
by Abluvion
Summary: "Just like a wolf you are, fierce and beautiful, yet kind." Arya/Gendry
1. A Visit

Arya Stark raised her head and gazed across to her left where her brother Bran sat. He was the new king, as Robb had died so he was not able to claim the throne for his own. He was grown now, a boy of ten and four now. He had named her Hand to the King, to save her, and she was plenty grateful. She sometimes found herself longing for her old life, even if it was filled with terror, sweat, blood and the pungent scent of death. She had killed a man when she was but 8 years of age, so death did not frighten her. It enticed her.

She excused herself from the court where her brother sat upon the Iron Throne, and as she left through the tall set of doors she whispered "_Valar Morghulis_". It was something she said silently to herself, to remind her of the times come prior to this time. _All men must die. _She would not be the one to do it; of course not, she loved her brother the most out of all, but someone would come for him as they had for the kings prior, but she would be waiting, watching. And she would strike, killing her enemy, just like a wolf.

_Just like a Direwolf._

She found herself walking toward the smiths, and she smiled to herself. There she would find her friend Gendry, the only person she could confide in, and one of few people who could make her laugh. She pushed the door open lightly and spied Gendry; he was bent over a piece of metal that was glowing red, sparks flying as he beat it with a hammer. She tiptoed lightly over and placed a hand on his sweat-coated bicep that seemed to shimmer in the light of the fire. He leaped back, dropping the hammer onto the ground with a loud _clang. _

"By Gods Arry, don't sneak up on me like that!"

She took in his appearance, it had been weeks since she visited him. He was powerfully-built, with strong, firm muscles. He was glistening with sweat, his hair matted with sweat and dirt. She was proud of her friend, he had made himself a home within the castle, under Arya's supervision. She had begged her brother for days on end to let Gendry be the castle's permanent blacksmith. Finally, he had complied speaking of generous wages and plenty of food. Gendry had been so delighted that he had picked up Arya and swung her around, laughing, only to apologize a thousand times over.

She smiled at the nickname, one that had stuck ever since she pretended to be a boy for a short while on her Journey. Weasel was another that had stuck, Gendry cared to remind her of it every so often. But now, she could never pass as a boy, not even if she chopped off her teats. She was a girl of six and ten now and her chestnut hair had grown and now reached the bottom of her teats; she wore it down, where it swept against her teats releasing a smell of lavender, as it's silky sheen made her face glow.

Her gray eyes that were once as cold as ice towards him now glowed with an inviting playfulness in the light of the fire, and her slightly browned skin was adorned with little freckles. Those of which Gendry found irresistible. Her face had lost all of it's childlike pudginess, and had been replaced with soft, pink, full lips and high cheekbones. She wore a brown leather bodice, her favourite, Gendry had noticed, as she wore it often. Gendry's eyes wandered over her body and stopped for a short while at her teats, where a small amount of freckled cleavage was showing due to her tight bodice. She wore with those a pair of blackened leather pants that hugged her curves and her defined, muscular legs.

"I haven't seen you in a while, m'lady" Gendry grinned, his lips stretching over a full mouth of teeth, one of which was slightly crooked, but instead of looking awful, it made him look silly, yet handsome.

"I've been busy dealing with matters my brother doesn't care for, and you know I absolutely hate when you say that!" She smiled, but a tiny bit of annoyance slipped out of her lips.

"Say what, _m'lady_" His grin widened, a childlike gleam flickering in his eyes; they had not changed since they first met, even if he had aged four years, reaching an age of nine and ten.

"Oh shut up, you fool" Arya stepped over the fallen hammer and stood close to Gendry, so close she could almost hear his heart beating against his leather vest. He smelled of sweat, leather and smoke. A smell most intoxicating to Arya. It enticed her, almost to an extreme leveled compared to how much her lavender bath water had sickened her.

Gendry blushed a deep red, he towered over her, but not so much that she could go on her tiptoes and kiss him. And that she did. This had been happening a lot as of late, but nothing had progressed further than that. He was a grown man, yet Gendry still only her kiss him, and she was fine with it. She didn't understand yet the appeal of sex. She reached down and brushed her hand against his manhood, giggling against his lips.

He shuddered under her touch and leaned a hand back, only to rest it on the still glowing metal he had been working on. He jumped forward, knocking Arya back a few steps. He clutched his hand, and Arya saw angry red welts raising from it. She leaned forward, gripped his wrist and kissed his hand, knowing her cool lips would be soothing to it.

Still gripping his wrist she led him outside to where a stream of water was running out of a tap, she tested it and felt it's coolness, then shoved his hand underneath as he cursed and swore. She laughed the whole time, watching him scowl at her, but he was almost on the brink of tears, and that was funny to her. This big hardened man, crying over a burn. After a few moments she gripped his wrist tighter and led him back inside, over to a shelf where the bandages sat. She wrapped the cloth around his hand, tightened it and ripped the rest of with her sharp teeth.

"Just like a wolf you are, fierce and beautiful, yet kind." He winced as she tightened her grip on his hand.

"Just as a Direwolf is."


	2. Dreaming

Chapter 2

"He's always burning himself, what a damn fool." Arya Stark was sitting on a fence in the stables, muttering to her horse, Aoife, which, in mythology, meant "warrior princess", a name befitting of her steed.

_Neigh-gh-hh_

"I know girl, he's my Gendry, one of a kind." She grinned at her Aoife, petting down her mane, tightening the straps on her saddle.

The sun was beginning to disappear over the horizon, welcoming the bitter winds that came with the winter. Even here at the castle, there was winter. It wasn't as fierce and bitter as Winterfell's winds, but it welcomed her in it's arms like she had returned to it's vast fields full of ice and blanket's of snow. All the same, it was still cold. She wrapped her cloak around her shoulder, it's velvety material shimmering with it's deep blues and shiny silvers.

It seemed now that she thought less of war and fighting and more of love and Gendry. She was settling down, but her spirit was still as free as the bitter winds that waited for her.

"Honestly Arya, you really should be inside the castle, it's freezing out here." Bran had arrived at the stables, peering at her behind his guards rigid shoulders and gaunt armor.

"Sorry…" She had a habit of mumbling, that of which Bran hated and remarked on often.

"Stand up straight dear sister, you were visiting that blacksmith again, weren't you?" She glared at him, but jumped down from the fence, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

"Oh? So since you're King now you have to know where I go, all the time, _dear _brother?" A hint of annoyance creeping it's way through her words.

She usually treated her brother well, and she honestly loved him, almost as much as she had loved her father. But sometimes, usually because of the topic of Gendry, they fought.

"No, because I'm your brother and I have only the best intentions for you." He stood tall where he was, but made a gesture with his hand, and his guards left to wait outside.

"Ah yes, interview any good suitors lately, _brother? _You know I _love _it when you try to control my life." She knew she was testing dark waters, it was obvious that she needed to marry highly to earn support for the King, but she didn't like anyone else, and if she was to be married, she would pick Gendry, because he was kind, funny and fun to tease, not to mention a fantastic kisser. And, when he was feeling brave enough, he would kiss her so fiercely she thought her heart would fall out of her chest.

"You can't expect to marry a _blacksmith, _even if you _are_ Hand to the King." His voice had soured from it's rehearsed King-speak, retiring into a childish whine.

"Honestly Bran, can we talk about this later? And his name is _Gendry_, not _"blacksmith"_." She pushed past her brother, leading Aoife along beside her, fuming.

Arya rode through the town, not sure of where she was heading. She felt hot liquid on her face, blurring her vision; she was crying, something she did not do ever, if she could help it. _He's just a child, _she thought, _a stupid stupid child sitting on a stupid stupid chair. _She knew her brother was a good King, he was kind, gentle yet, when it came to important matter, he knew how to handle them with assertiveness and poise. They were like Yin and Yang, she was brash and cruel, while he thought everything out and had a kind heart._ I wouldn't be surprised if I was a damn bastard along with Jon, _she thought, _at least I'd be able to do what I want_.

It wasn't until late then did she return home, slipping through the door to her bedchambers, stripping her clothes off and falling into a troubled sleep.

She dreamt of the White Walkers.

_[… Arya was running through a field of ice, snow and bitter winds. She heard a voice just up ahead of where she was headed, as she neared it let out the most bloodcurdling scream she had ever heard._

"_Please! Leave me alooooo-"_

_Her breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed quietly. She was closer now, she could sense it, or at least she could smell it. It was the smell of fresh blood and fear. She hid behind a large tree for a moment, pausing to calm herself down. But she had heard that voice before, and she had heard it often. In the mornings when she was late to break her fast, in the evening when she snuck away from Septa Mordane and Sansa, and at night when she watched the moon on the steps of her old home._

_It was the voice of her brother, Jon Snow._

_She rounded to the other side of the tree and fell over something, it was dark and she had been careless. Her hands were coated in a sticky, almost black, substance and she didn't have to think twice to know what it was. Holding back her supper, she got to her knee's and looked straight into the face of her bastard brother, or what was left, at least. …]_

Arya woke, screaming bloody murder.


	3. Running

She shot out of bed, to her window, not bothering with clothing, she had no shame. She breathed in and out slowly as the sun dried her tears and warmed her body. She gripped the ledge, white knuckled, until her breathing had steadied and she no longer felt light-headed.

"It was just a dream, Arya, just a dream. You are a Direwolf, and wolves _do not _feel fear." She whispered firmly to herself, reassuring her mind.

It was early, and the sun had only just risen, the castle still silent, with the occasional sound of a bird, chirping from outside. She backed away from her window, and found herself up against someone. She opened her mouth to scream and a hand shot out to muffle her voice before it could escape. They're other hand wrapped itself around her waist, holding her against them.

"You don't want to wake anyone now do you, m'lady?" A voice. It was rough and deep, and one she hadn't heard before.

He slowly removed his gloved hand from her lips and she groaned, becoming fully aware of her naked body.

Blushing deeply she said, "Who are you, and what do you want?"

He removed his arm from around her middle and answered "your new Knight, m'lady, assigned to the Hand by King Stark."

"Ah, but still, what gives you the right to come into my bedchambers, touch me while I am not clothed, and hide your face from me?" She turned around, a look of annoyance on her face, arms crossed over her breasts.

_He's young, probably the same age as Gendry, _she thought, _but his face is hidden by his helmet, so I cannot tell._

"But m'lady, you screamed, so I came."

"And you thought not to leave once I appeared in no immediate danger?"

"I was posted outside your door and could hear you crying in your sleep." He answered her without a smile, or any emotion, just straight fact.

"But, why didn't you leave."

"I thought you might've needed consoling, then I noticed that you weren't wearing any clothes, so I grabbed your cloak." he gestured to the fallen cloak on the ground, which he had probably dropped so as to stifle her scream.

She blushed and reached for the cloak, wrapping it's rough material around her body, still annoyed at how he had touched her waist.

"Your name, ser?"

He removed his helmet and bent low, "Ser Bane, Logan Bane, m'lady."

"Ser Logan, you may leave, I am of no need for assistance, but thank you kindly for your concern."

He nodded but pressed further, "what were you dreaming of, m'lady?"

"It is of no concern to you, or anyone else, please do not tell my brother of my dream. And I won't tell the King that you touched me, _inappropriately_."

Ser Logan blushed at this, and excused himself.

She sighed after he closed the door, and walked to her closet. She selected a pair of dark, tight-fitted pants, a loose, long sleeved, emerald colored shirt, and a pair of leather shoes she used for her dancing lessons. She changed, washed her face, brushed out her long hair and left out her window. _No way in hell am I leaving through that door,_ she thought,_ I might run into that Knight again._

She scaled the wall, disobeying her brother's orders, and dropped into the path below. Bran had banned her from climbing out her window after he caught her the first time, which was understandable. He had lost the ability to walk from a push out of a tall tower. He now walked with crutches, and had a special saddle designed by Tyrion Lannister, for his horse.

She sprinted her way to the stables, and was out of breath when she reached her horse, Aoife. She hastily attached the saddle, checked it, and swung herself onto her, galloping hard out into the village. They all like her there, and sometimes threw flowers at her, she had saved many of their loved ones lives, as well as their own. But she did not want to be seen, so she covered the house crest on her saddle with mud and pulled her hood over her head, hiding her face.

She didn't know where she was going until she spotted Gendry walking down the road, a bundle of tools in a held to his side, swinging with him as he walked. She rushed towards him.

"You do know my brother gave you a horse, right?" She smiled down at him, and he grinned back, increasing her mood.

"And you know that I don't enjoy riding horses, Arry." Chuckling, he reached up and brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes.

"I know, you fool." She removed her hood, and swung down from her horse and into Gendry's arms.

"What is it Arya?" He noticed she was shaking, and a small whimper escaped her lips.

"N-nothing, idiot." She held on tighter to his shirt, her small hands clenching so tight her knuckles turned white.

He held onto her face with two hands and as a tear ran down her cheek he brushed it away.

"Come with me, I'll lead Aoife." He swung his over his shoulder and lead Aoife with his other hand, looking back to make sure Arya was following. She had pulled her hood back up, and was looking at the ground, and every so often, a tear would splash against a rock or her shoe.

He led her back to the castle, the last place she had wanted to be, through to the stables, and then she heard Gendry address a certain someone.

"Logan!" He gestured with his hand and the man approached.

"Gendry, is that you? Gods, it is you!" They grinned at each other, until Logan gestured towards Arya.

"You've found the lady then have you?"

"More like she found me, Logan." He laughed, it was a deep sound, and he handed Aoife over to the stable boy and gently grabbed hold of Arya's arm, drawing her forward.

She swiftly wiped away her tears with her other hand and pulled her hood back, scowling at the two of them.

She didn't know what to think, she was standing next to the man who knew everything about her but had never seen her undressed, and she was standing in front of the man who had seen her undressed, but knew nothing about her. She crossed her arms as Logan grinned at her.

"The King has requested you join him to break your fast."

"Tell him I've already eaten." And with that she grabbed Gendry's arm roughly, and dragged him in the direction of her rooms, annoyed that the two men knew each other, and were apparently friends.

Still holding Gendry's arm, Arya broke into a run once she got out of Logan's sight. She checked down the hall, found no guards visible, and slipped into her chambers, finally letting go of Gendry. She sat cross-legged on her bed and kicked off her shoes, narrowly avoiding Gendry who had a look of surprise on his face. He dropped his satchel of tools and leaned up against her closed door.

"What on earth was that for, Arry?" He had a look of surprise mixed with annoyance masked over his naturally good looking face.

"I-I don't know, I just, um, don't like him." She stuttered and stumbled through her words and Gendry knew she was lying. Something she was usually better at.

"Tell me why."

"I don't know!"

"Tell me now Arya, tell me why you ran." His tone was tense and frightening; she shivered involuntarily.

Her face became flushed, from blushing or anger, Gendry did not know. She uncrossed her legs and swung them over the edge of her bed, and stalked over to where he stood.

"I had a nightmare last night." Gendry reached out to embrace her, "and I- well, um, see he, um, he well- I was n-naked and um..." He withdrew his outstretched arms understanding what she was saying, and reached for the door handle, a look of disgust on his face.

"_I _haven't even seen you naked! And you let _him _see you? To hell with this, Arya! What do you take me for, a damn fool?" He clenched the door handle, white-knuckled, and Arya exploded.

"It was on accident, I _promise_! Please believe me, Gendry. Please!" Her eyes were swimming with tears, and she looked vulnerable and weak, something she never was.

He released his grip on the door handle, and groaned loudly.

"Arry…"

"He came in while I was at my window, and I did _not _know he was there until I backed into him, and he, he t-touched me around the waist." Gendry clenched his fist, "I know it wasn't meant like that but it was so embarrassing."

"Stupid girl, c'mere." He gestured with his arms and she closed the space between them, he embraced her, and she kissed the area just above his collarbone, which made him shudder, but he unclenched his hands and brought them to her waist.

"_I _am the only one who can touch you this way, understood?" His voice shook a small bit, but it was still strict and she smiled into his chest, nodding.

She slid her hand into his and led him to her bed, beckoning to his shoes, which his removed hastily. She slid onto the bed, and into a kneeling position, her hair falling down around her shoulders, her cheeks flushed, her eyes eager. He followed her onto the bed, got into a kneeling position, and leaned in to kiss her, one hand on her waist, the other on the back of her neck. It was a gentle kiss at first, but she was eager, pushing her tongue in through his lips, meeting his. It quickly transformed into a passionate kiss with an unending force, and neither of them backed out until they were out of breath and their lips were red and swollen.

Arya slid her hands up his shirt, feeling his hard, sculpted muscles, and grinned before hastily pulling his tunic up over his head and tossing it to the floor beside her. He pulled her closer to him and kissed her neck, working his way down to the top of her breasts before stopping to look up at her, where her eyes willed him to go on, and her lips formed a small smile.

He pulled her loose shirt over her head, removing the brazier from underneath and, starting at her hips, felt his way up her body until he reached her neck, and kissed her again. This went on until there was a hard knock on her door, and both lovers, now covered in sweat with their pants on the floor beside them, jumped.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" Arya pushed Gendry off her the best she could, handed him his shirt and pants, threw her own clothes on hastily, darted to the mirror, and flattened her hair. And as soon as she was seated on the bed with Gendry in a chair in the corner of the room, did Ser Logan enter.

"M'lady." He said, while making a small bow, "Gendry." he said accompanied with a stiff nod in his direction, "the King requires your presence in the armory, as of minutes ago."

"Why me, ser?" Arya said, with a confused look on her face.

"Not just you m'lady, the royal blacksmith as well." Giving Gendry a scowl as he said this.

"Oh…" She slipped on her shoes, jumped the short distance to the floor and follow Ser Logan out the heavyset doors, Gendry followed with his satchel in hand.

They shared a quick look, and they both blushed, still out of breath from a moment ago. He reached over, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering a moment on her cheek before bringing it back to his side, still grinning, wide-toothed and happy. She reached over and straightened his shirt, before brushing her hand through his hair.

_Logan seemed mad about Gendry being in my room_, Arya thought, _it's strange since I barely know the man. In my own defense, it was only right to show Gendry my body, I was glad to show him, and he had seemed so eager. _She troubled herself the whole walk to the armory with this, and staring at Logan's back while Gendry stared at her, watching.


	4. Authors Note

I apologize to those of you who are following this story and have been asking me to continue it. I've been stuck in between something of a rock and a hard place, so I've decided to give up a lot of my fics that I just don't have the effort to write anymore. I don't really like this story particularly anymore, but I hope you'll stick around, as I'm planning to write new fics with these characters in a few weeks (after my final exams). –Sarah (abluvion)


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